


Is That a Passport in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

by saintsaint



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom
Genre: Benrey: head full of love and panic and way too many feelings, Dick Jokes Leading to Romantic Realizations, Gordon: literally listening to the elevator music inside his head :), M/M, Pre-Relationship, Two Bros Chillin on a Bus Zero Feet Apart Cuz -- omg wait. IS gay???, Two People Having Very Different Experiences of the Same Event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:27:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27255682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsaint/pseuds/saintsaint
Summary: Benrey realizes that he is in love with Gordon Freeman.
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 42
Kudos: 285





	Is That a Passport in Your Pocket or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

**Author's Note:**

> This references dick-touching but no dicks get touched. I figure that makes it T-rated and also on the same level as the source material, given that in the Act 1 Commentary they DID explicitly claim Benrey slipped Gordon's dick back in his suit.  
> See end notes for content warnings.

Freeman throws his head back and laughs.

Staring at the long line of his throat, Benrey swallows. Gordon must have decided to skip shaving today; the appealing whorls of stubble on his neck are more pronounced than usual, and if Benrey were allowed to look long enough he’s sure he could find patterns in them. What he wants is to do more than look, to trace his fingers over the hair there, feel the hot pulse of Freeman’s heart and blood and body under his own hands.

As it is, the force of Freeman’s laughter has him leaning back over all too quickly, one warm hand clutching at Benrey’s shoulder. Gordon’s curls fall forward to frame his face; the sun picks out coppery highlights against the dark curtain of his hair. When Freeman’s eyes crinkle open, the light illuminating them… Benrey forgets entirely to breathe.

“Man, you, you can’t —” Freeman gasps for breath and laughs again, his hand tightening on Benrey’s shoulder. Benrey bites his lip _hard;_ he can feel every single point of contact with Gordon like it’s been burned into his skin, his flesh, his bone. “That’s the dumbest shit I’ve _ever_ heard, dude! You don’t seriously believe that?”

“...Huh?” Benrey says.

Benrey has always had issues paying attention with Freeman around, but it’s only gotten worse post-ResCas, and _especially_ since moving in together.

Yeah, after his last big regen Benrey had kind of expected to keep living at Tommy’s; unfortunately, by then the G-Man knew what Benrey was. Apparently he had “issues with providing housing for an extradimensional alien super-predator.” Bluh, whatever. Coomer and Bubby were his next bet, but they said something about “not interfering with the arc of the story” and firmly recommended he try elsewhere. The rest of Benrey’s friends had lived at the Black Mesa dorms, so that was out, too.

Benrey would have been out on his ass if Gordon hadn’t stepped in. What had started out as a weird half-roommate, half-babysitter (Benrey would insist he was watching Joshua, while Freeman insisted _he_ was watching Benrey) kind of situation had developed into an easy, casual, domestic friend-thing. It turned out that when they weren’t trying to kill each other and stopped squabbling long enough to put in the effort towards mutual understanding, he and Freeman actually got along pretty well.

Not that Benrey would ever completely give up squabbling with Freeman; tugging at the guy’s metaphorical pigtails is too much fun. Gordon’s reactions are so — man. Benrey doesn’t have the words for it. They’re _good,_ though.

 _And distracting,_ say Benrey’s human thoughts, definitely more anxious than the rest of him. _Dude, stop being so gay and_ pay attention. _Do you even know what you were just talking about??_

Benrey does not. He knows that’s bad, but Gordon’s hand is still on his shoulder and the man is _giggling_ and, honestly, it’s hard to concentrate through that. Maybe if he plays extra stupid he’ll be able to keep Freeman laughing and it won’t matter that Benrey is even worse at pretending to be a person when he’s around him. Maybe he’ll just be allowed to keep basking in the warmth of the other man’s presence.

But already, Freeman’s recovering enough to speak again. “Okay, okay; Benrey.” Benrey tracks Gordon’s other hand as it moves to massage his forehead, but the man’s still grinning and holding onto him with the other one so he’s pretty sure it’s fine. “Tell me this: if you don’t believe in aliens, then what the _hell_ did you think was happening at Black Mesa?”

 _OH YEAH,_ Benrey’s normal thoughts and human thoughts say at the same time, recollection striking like lightning. _ALIENS._

Benrey is the _funniest_ fucking person alive.

 _Oh, bro, get ‘em,_ say the human thoughts, amused and once more on his side.

“Wuh?” Benrey grins up at Freeman, gently disentangling himself from the other man’s hand and swaggering just a bit as they arrive at the bus stop. He sets his bags down, leans against the flimsy shelter, and peeks under his lashes to see Freeman rolling his eyes as he catches up. “Wasn’t aliens. Was, uh.” Benrey smacks his lips, thoughts racing. “...Ghosts.”

“ _Ghosts?_ ” Freeman echoes, springing up from the casual lean he was trying to copy to gape down at Benrey. His eyebrows look like they’re trying to touch his hairline. “You think it was _ghosts?_ ”

“Yup,” Benrey says, popping the p just to be obnoxious. Freeman looks to the sky as if to pray for patience.

“You — _Benrey._ The, the — the peeper puppies. The vonneguts. The, the fucking _headcrabs_ — how —” Freeman closes his eyes; Benrey takes the moment to admire both his cheekbones and the frustrated amusement on his face. “Tell me how those — how _any_ of those could be ghosts. Explain it to me.”

Benrey sucks on his lip, thinking quickly. He pulls a hand out of his pocket to count down on his fingers. “Uh, puppies were. Ghost dogs. Vonneguts were ghost people, like, uh… pole-toe-geists.” Freeman is shaking his head, saying, “no, no, _no,_ ” but Benrey just grins and keeps going. “Headcrabs was zombies. Or, uh, possession. Possessors. Professor possessors.”

“ _No,_ ” Freeman says. “Zombies aren’t even ghosts, you can’t—”

“Oh, Feetman knows all about ghosts now, huh? Didn’t even know the aliens were ghosts—”

“Shut up, _shut up,_ and you _just_ admitted they were aliens—”

“Bluh, I’m Gordon Feetman, I think ghosts aren’t real—”

“I, that! That doesn’t even — Benrey, aren’t _you_ basically an alien?”

“Feetman xenophobic? Xenophobic Feetman?”

“No! I just think—”

“Just cuz Benny’s from a different dimension? Feetman prejudiced against people from different dimensions but doesn’t even believe in ghosts?”

“I’m not fucking xe— and I _do_ believe in ghosts!” Freeman protests, throwing his hands out, and Benrey has to stifle a laugh. Yeah, he’s never going to give up squabbling with this man.

He aims a toothy grin up at him. “Yeah? You see a ghost before?”

“I have!! And so have you,” Freeman says, and there’s a gleam of triumph in his eye that has Benrey biting his lip. He looks so good like this, smirking down at him, the light behind him revealing the strands of hair that have escaped his ponytail like a halo.

The bus is pulling onto their street, though, so Benrey gently tugs at Freeman’s sleeve and gestures with his chin. Freeman picks up the bags in preparation. “What ghost?” Benrey prompts, squinting at the bus. It looks pretty full from what he can see.

“Skeleton,” Freeman says smugly.

Benrey whips his head around to glare at him, though there’s more anxiety than heat behind it. “Bro, we do _not_ talk about the skeletons.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Freeman says, rolling his eyes. But he’s pursing his lips, looking at Benrey out of the corner of his eye like he’s trying to be sly. “...Cuz you’re too scared to admit that they were aliens?”

“Wh— _no,_ cause aliens aren’t real. Idiot,” Benrey says immediately, and is rewarded by Freeman losing the battle against his smile, his white teeth flashing. Benrey’s stupid heart flutters despite himself; he can’t help but return the smile even as Freeman’s focus shifts to the approaching bus. Benrey finds he badly wants to keep that attention on him.

“’Sides, if aliens existed, no way they’d look like that,” he continues, raising his voice a little. The other man glances over and Benrey oh-so-casually pulls his shoulders back, studies his nails. “They’d be more human-lookin’. More smart. Probably have a job as, uh, a security guard or something… Be funnier, too.”

“And cuter?” Freeman offers idly.

The bus pulls to a stop in front of them, doors opening with a pneumatic hiss, before Benrey can parse what’s just been said.

 _HELLO???_ his human thoughts shriek.

“ _Wh!?_ ” Benrey says, embarrassingly high-pitched, but Gordon isn’t looking at him at all. In fact, even though his face is pointed towards the bus, his gaze seems far away.

As if by instinct, Benrey’s eye catches on Freeman’s right hand; it’s tightening around the handle of the bag, nails probably digging into his palm. Benrey glances again at the bus — it is indeed fuller than usual. They won’t be able to stand without someone touching them, strangers getting in their space.

Oh.

Benrey comes around Freeman’s left side, humming tunelessly as he goes so the other man can hear him coming. “We waitin’ for the next one?”

“...Nah,” Freeman says at last, voice forcibly calm, and he steps up onto the bus. “We gotta take this one if we want to pick up Joshie on time.”

Benrey nibbles his lip and follows. The people on the bus make room as much as they can, but Benrey knows it’s not nearly enough for Gordon to be comfortable. 

A thought occurs to Benrey and, without fully realizing it, he moves — before the doors can close entirely and box them in, Benrey follows the insistent whim and grabs Freeman’s left shoulder (Gordon twitches briefly under his grip but relaxes once he realizes it’s Benrey, whose heart gives a sudden, heavy thump). Benrey swings the man around so his back is against the door, protected from anyone coming up from behind him, and puts himself between him and the crowd of people. The doors seal shut, shoving Gordon forward, while the people at Benrey’s back prevent him from moving back —

Resulting in Benrey and Gordon being pressed together from thigh to chest, Benrey’s lips very nearly touching the “v” of Freeman’s clavicle. Above him, Gordon catches his breath.

 _Too close,_ hiss old animal instincts about the people crowded at Benrey’s back.

 _Too close!_ yelp his human thoughts about the other man pressed against his body, radiating warmth.

Benrey hardly hears them for the blood thundering through him, heating his face and ears. So close to Gordon’s neck, Benrey thinks that there might be swirling patterns in his stubble after all.

For a while post-ResCas, Freeman did not touch Benrey. With the NeoScience Team Gordon clapped shoulders, hugged, leaned against them, and squeezed their faces; with his alien roommate, he skirted very intentionally around and kept a solid distance. Not that Benrey blamed him — he knew that he’d majorly, _majorly_ fucked stuff up, and honestly he’d felt pretty jumpy around Freeman in turn (since the guy did, you know, _kill_ him) — so Gordon deserved as much time as he needed to start feeling comfortable around him again. But by the time that happened, Benrey himself had gotten very conscientious about giving Freeman space; even now he hesitates to initiate any physical contact, just in case.

So this is, very suddenly, a _lot_ of touch.

The bus jerks forward. The people around them sway with the movement. Freeman reaches out a hand to steady him by the shoulder; Benrey tries to stay very still. As always, Gordon’s hands are warm even through the hoodie.

“...Hey, Benrey?” Freeman says lowly.

Inexorably, Benrey’s gaze is drawn up, up, to meet Gordon’s. The man has one eyebrow raised, which he always does when someone is unexpectedly nice to him, but he otherwise looks almost… fond?

Benrey swallows. “Yeah?’

“Thanks, man,” Gordon says softly, and smiles.

And Benrey has to look away _immediately_ because even though Freeman is shit at reading expressions, the blush staining Benrey’s face is pretty damning. So, too, would be the pink sweet voice building within him, demanding to be sung out and spill his feelings in a terrible mess everywhere, so Benrey keeps his mouth clamped shut and just says, “Mhmm.”

The bus rumbles along. Freeman leaves his hand on Benrey’s shoulder like it’s easy, like it doesn’t send his heart racing. Benrey keeps his head down and focuses on swallowing sweet voice before it can escape.

 _Man, we've been quiet for too long,_ say his human thoughts. _We’re being weird, we have to say something. Think, man! THINK!_

But Benrey’s brain is empty except for a lot of very cool, casual screaming, and for all their denial his human thoughts are just as flustered as he is. So for half the bus ride Benrey just wrestles with his own stupid feelings, desperately trying to get a hold of himself and be _normal,_ just talk to his friend like a human person. On the few occasions he gathers the courage to peek up at Freeman through his lashes, he finds the man looking absently out the window and apparently bopping his head along to music that he’s imagining in his own brain.

God, Gordon sucks _so much._ Swallowing this much pink sweet voice can’t be good for Benrey.

The bus takes a particularly sharp turn and Benrey stumbles, lurching even closer to Freeman — _aw fuck_ — and Gordon’s grip tightens. Despite that, Benrey very nearly ends up between his legs; they have to awkwardly prop each other up to keep from falling and squishing their shopping bags. They’re crammed even closer together than before.

At which point, Benrey notices something hard pressed against his thigh.

Whatever it is in Freeman’s pocket is absolutely something innocuous. It’s a cell phone or a pill bottle or whatever, something that’s nothing — but a particularly stupid joke occurs to Benrey and even though his human thoughts are protesting in panic, he’s so relieved to have something to think about besides _how close Gordon is, fuck,_ that he tilts his face up towards Freeman’s and blurts out:

“Is that a passport in your pocket or, uh. Are you just happy to see me?”

Gordon, still recovering from the bus’s sharp turn, takes in a half-breath as though to snap something witty back before he stops, eyes widening.

For a moment he looks totally gobsmacked, and Benrey’s smile slips — _I told you not to, dude, I told you!_ his human thoughts groan — before Freeman sucks in the rest of his breath, shoves one of the bags into Benrey’s hand, says, “Wait, _wait_ —” 

—and thrusts his now-free hand into the lack of space between their bodies, fishing around a bit below belt-buckle height.

“Wuh — UH,” Benrey says, because on the one hand: _yes, please,_ Benrey would let Gordon Freeman put his hands anywhere on his body, would let him do anything he wanted to him, would take anything the man gave him and thank him for it.

But on the other hand: they are in public, and despite the long internal debates Benrey has had with his human thoughts, as a unit Benrey is still very shy about showing affection where strangers can see. In private, sure, he can kiss his friends’ cheeks as much as he’d like — but anywhere else, anything _more,_ those are off the table.

Not that Freeman _would,_ he knows, kiss him — or anything ( _uh!_ ) more than that.

Even though Benrey’s pretty sure he’d be good at it. Freeman, that is, would be good at it — kissing, he means. Not just because his lips look soft, especially when he’s concentrating on some dumb science thing and unconsciously sinks his teeth into his lower lip. Not just because of how _responsive_ Gordon is, how he pays attention to even the slightest change in tone, how he’s always watching for others’ needs and reacting accordingly. Not just because of the way his eyes crinkle up in the corners whenever Benrey tells him some intentionally absurd nonsense, how he runs with it to create something hilarious before passing it back to Benrey with challenge flashing in his eyes.

He just, uh. Seems like he’d be good at kissing.

Alright, Benrey has admittedly spent a _little_ time imagining what it would be like to kiss Gordon Freeman. Enough time to come to the conclusion that he really, _really_ wants to, more than he wants just about anything else in the world. He dreams of fisting his hands in Freeman’s t-shirt, yanking his stupid face down to his level so he can capture Gordon’s lips with his own, tangling one hand in his dark curls…

It’s chill though. Benrey can totally handle having a lil crush on his roommate, the man with whom he spends the majority of his time, the man who right this moment has his hand stuck between their bodies pressed right up against each other —

 _STOP THINKING ABOUT KISSING,_ his human thoughts say frantically. _STOP THINKING ABOUT ALL OF IT, HIS HAND IS RIGHT THERE, STOP THINKING ABOUT IT, STOP STOP STOP —_

At that moment Freeman finally ( _oh thank god_ but also _aw, bummer_ ) pulls his hand up and away, freeing it, and Benrey barely has the chance to catch sight of something clenched in the man’s fist.

“Actually, Benrey,” Freeman says, bright eyes a touch manic with apparent glee, and then he’s thrusting something into Benrey’s hand and saying something else that Benrey completely misses.

“Wuh,” Benrey says, fumbling, and clutches the mystery object to his chest before it can drop to the ground. Its outside, he notices, is an intriguing pebbly texture, and as he pulls it away from himself it unrolls some in his hands like the only thing keeping it in its shape before was constant pressure. He doesn’t even think to look at it, though, too distracted by Freeman’s face.

It’s positively radiant, alight with fierce triumph. His dark eyes are lit up with excitement, a streak of golden light from the setting sun outside highlighting in them every minute trace of green, and his smirk is _huge,_ showing the pink of his gums against his white teeth. A curl of hair has come loose and bounces with the movement of the bus, giving him a slightly undone edge to match the enthusiasm that seems to have erupted in him from out of nowhere. Even with the crowded confines and Benrey shoved up against him, he’s nearly bouncing with energy.

He looks beautiful. He looks, a little, like he could kill Benrey (and Benrey knows very well that he could). He looks like the kind of person Benrey could spend the rest of his life staring at and never, ever grow bored.

...He’s starting to look a little irritated.

“... _Well??_ ” Freeman finally says.

“Huh?” Benrey says, shoulders hitching up a little.

“The! The, the — you?!” Freeman puts his face in his free hand and growls, which makes Benrey’s gut lurch a little bit. “The fucking — the passport!”

“The wh,” Benrey says, and immediately feels bad at the wave of fatigue that crashes across Freeman’s face. The light in his eyes is stubborn, though, and he takes a breath before gesturing with a karate chop-like gesture towards Benrey himself.

“Benrey, look in your hand.”

Benrey does. He blinks in surprise. “Oh, yo! It’s a passport?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly,” Freeman says, relief returning his smile, and Benrey can’t help but smile back. “So, so — you said to me, ‘mleh, I’m Benrey, blah blah, is that a passport in your pocket or are you happy to—’ you know, that whole thing. And it is!” He grins again, eyes sparkling. “It _is_ my passport! HA!!”

It is! Still a little confused but genuinely happy at Gordon’s happiness, Benrey returns his gaze to the dark blue booklet sitting on his palm. Its edges are worn and cover scratched in many places, like it’s been through a lot. Benrey runs a thumb along its bumpy texture, observing how it stays in a stubborn half-roll. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost think it was routinely kept like that.

“...Yo,” Benrey says, thought forming slowly, disbelievingly. “Have you, uh… you haven’t been carrying this around this whole time just in case I ever asked for your passport again… have you?”

“What? No,” Freeman says very quickly. Benrey jerks his head up to stare at him, but Gordon is looking at the ceiling very determinedly. “No, of course not. Shut up, Benrey.”

Benrey is right up against him, though, and even if he was somehow blind to the flush building prettily up his neck and face, he can literally feel Gordon heating up.

 _Oh my god,_ say his human thoughts. A grin starts to spread across Benrey’s face.

“Shut up,” Gordon says again. It’s been months since Black Mesa — how long has he been carrying this in his pocket, just hoping Benrey will ask? “Just — can you just check it, man?”

“Check it?”

“Yeah,” Freeman says, finally breaking his staring contest with the bus ceiling to glare at Benrey, though the blush on his face is definitely messing with the look he was likely going for. “My credentials. You were always going on about them, weren’t you?”

Oh. Well, Benrey can play.

“It’s expired,” Benrey says automatically, recalling the last time he saw the man’s passport. He raises his eyebrows at Freeman, trying not to grin too obviously as he falls back into the old security guard patterns. “I can’t accept this, uh… _sir._ Do you have any valid identification?”

“Oh?” Gordon says, still pink in the face but getting back into it. He tilts his head and smirks, and Benrey’s gut lurches a bit both because that smirk looks so _good_ on him and because it also means that he knows something Benrey doesn’t. “You, hm, seem awfully sure about it being expired considering you haven’t even looked at it yet, _Officer._ Not very good at your job, are you?”

That has Benrey scowling, actually, because he _was_ good at his job, thank you. His only real error while on-duty at Black Mesa had been letting a dumb chicken-hat into the facility without his passport just because the guy was kinda hot. And, yeah, it had led to the whole establishment being overrun by dimension-hopping aliens and the deaths of hundreds of people, but it was _one_ mistake. Besides, Freeman couldn’t even push a cart right. Where the hell does he get off criticizing Benrey?

So, narrowing his eyes at a smug-ass Gordon, Benrey flips open the passport with a practiced movement and dutifully checks the expiration date — only to pause, blinking in disbelief.

“ _Huh_ ,” Benrey says

“Yeah,” Freeman says, ego clearly audible. “That’s right.”

It isn’t expired — in fact, it’s got a good ten years left on it, because despite how beat up its cover is, it is also _brand new._ Which makes sense, now that Benrey thinks about it for a second; Freeman did destroy his passport back in Black Mesa. He would have needed a new one.

But Benrey has also been living with Gordon for a few months now, and he _knows_ the guy. Even if he’d needed a passport for travel, he would have forgotten about it until the last moment and then had to pay some crazy amount to get a rush job. Besides, he hasn’t talked about travel at all, seeming pretty determined to stay put and have some stability with Joshua for the foreseeable future. Why the hell would he have put in the effort to get a passport?

Unthinkingly, Benrey brushes his thumb over the ID picture. There’s an amused, smug look in that Gordon’s eyes, visible even in the tiny square of his passport photo. The date issued indicates it was taken a few weeks post-ResCas.

“Gordon,” Benrey says slowly.

“Huh?” Freeman says, barely distracted from what might be the most dadly victory dance anyone has ever attempted while in such a confined space. “Yeah? What?” 

“You…”

He got the passport after Benrey spent all of Black Mesa bugging him about it. He got the photo taken after Black Mesa, maybe even while thinking about this moment in the future. He’s been carrying it around since then, waiting for Benrey to ask about it, just so he could shove it in his face… for a joke.

 _Oh, fuck, bro,_ say Benrey’s human thoughts. _I think we might be in love with him._

Benrey tears his eyes away from the tiny image of Gordon Freeman to look at the real thing. The man is still grinning like he’s just pulled off the greatest bank robbery of all time, eyes crinkled up in honest joy. He’s got a grocery bag in one hand, his hair is coming out of its hair tie, he hasn’t shaved today, and Benrey watched him eat mustard on toast for breakfast this morning. When he tilts his face down to meet Benrey’s gaze, he looks tired and goofy and genuinely so pleased with himself, so pleased to have pulled one over on the guy who once menaced him, on his friend —

And Benrey is in love with him.

The bus rolls to a stop. The doors pull open with a hiss, and as Gordon turns to step off the bus a single bubble of sweet voice escapes from Benrey’s lips.

Benrey quickly moves to dispel it, clapping it between his free hand and the open passport.

“Did you just sweet voice?” Gordon asks, interested, the light still gleaming in his dark eyes. “What were you trying to say?” His grin turns, slyly, into a smirk. “Or _did_ you even know what to say, after that devastating defeat of — of your stupid passport shit by _me,_ Gordon Freeman?”

“I was saying, uh.” Benrey’s mind races desperately as he follows Gordon off the bus, hitches his own bag of groceries more comfortably into his free hand. “That... your passport looks a bit shit, bro.”

Freeman’s face, already flushed prettily with his success, begins to redden — this time with anger. “What??” he demands. “You can’t — okay, first of all, it looks amazing; I have never had an ID picture turn out so well before, even the lady at the desk said I looked good, so you’ve just got shit taste. Second of all, _I_ already turned that insult against you, so you can’t use it against me!”

“Why not? S’true,” Benrey lies. His heart feels like it’s beating way too fast, he’s not sure he’s walking right, and he’s vaguely aware that although sweet voice doesn’t stain fabric it often leaves a mark on paper. Still, he obediently follows Gordon.

Freeman grits his teeth. “Okay, Benrey, you know what?” he’s saying, and Benrey listens with half an ear to the semi-joking outrage directed his way. The other half of his concentration is directed toward surreptitiously flipping open the passport again, just to check.

There, on a free page in the passport Gordon’s been carrying around for months just for Benrey, is a faint stain: pink to blue. His love, stamped on the pages, damning.

Well.

Benrey lets the passport fall closed, slides it carefully into his jeans pocket, and tunes back into Gordon’s rant. As he listens, as he watches Gordon become more and more animated and eventually lose track of what exactly he was yelling at Benrey about, a soft smile breaks out across Benrey’s own face.

Yeah, alright. He figures that of all the humans in the world, he can handle being in love with this idiot.

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: minor identity issues, including character referring to parts of himself as separate; minor PTSD; the blood-rushing anxiety of being in close physical contact with your crush; some semi-in-depth talk about kissing i guess; brief delirious belief that maybe ur crush is about to touch ur junk in public??; brief fear of getting a boner at the WORST time; maybe some minor internalized homophobia?
> 
> 1\. god, remember being crammed on a bus with people all around u? ough. the things u miss, man.  
> 2\. as with most things i write, this exists bc the idea made me laugh. like yea carrying around ur passport for months just in case the dude you killed asks for it is a BIT of a maladaptive trauma response, but on the other hand Just Think of the Look on his Face (and also you're queer bro. bro u r queer ur doing this for queer reasons now bro do you hear me? gordon? gordon are u listening)  
> 3\. i quite like romance but i am also aromantic and just do not fuckin get it lol :D hopefully this reads as romantic anyway, but if not then DAMN are they just important to each other as people. sometimes u have the realization that u want someone in ur life forever and they're incredibly special to you and they're also EXTREMELY HOT and it's still platonic! shrug!  
> 4\. imo gordon is genuinely brilliant (MIT doctorate, baby!) and capable of focusing on the important things (labwork, survival, Joshua), but otherwise he is SO oblivious, he is Not Present, he is thinking about THE COMPLETELY WRONG THING and thus missing the obvious right in front of him. he walks around listening to music in his own head and forgets to set his alarm everyday. that obliviousness, PLUS sometimes being a smug bastard?? a gift to me, personally, a person who thinks that shit's hilarious  
> 5\. tbh i have So Many thoughts about these two dummies. hopefully we'll get to them in (shameless plug~!) [Invasive Species](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553676/chapters/64730467), which features this same benrey (tho his human thoughts are MUCH more anxious here than usual due to their Huge Gay Crush) and a gordon who i think will be very much like this one? still figuring it out, but i'm getting closer to what i want :)! 
> 
> i hope this story finds you well. til next time!


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